


Galavant: The Mix Tapes

by GwendolynGrace



Category: Galavant (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Behind the Scenes, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Coming Out, Gen, Humor, Light-Hearted, Meta, Mixtape, Musicals, Other, Real Housewives references, Self-Reflection, Sex and the City AU, Tango, gratuitous fairy tale references, gratuitous game of thrones references, klezmer, later I'll add the music, light retcon, mentions of Arnold Galavant, musical numbers, thoughts of a dragon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-07 11:30:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8799208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GwendolynGrace/pseuds/GwendolynGrace
Summary: A series of short scenes from before, after, and possibly alternate versions of Galavant.Jazz Hands! A Tango! Extra Bleeping Noises! Self-reflexive Meta Commentary! And Happy Endings. All in a convenient, special-edition, six-track mix tape....





	1. Track One: Hero's Journey

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BookGirlFan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookGirlFan/gifts).



> This is for the prompt: I don't want something too shippy, and definitely nothing explicit. Not my thing. Preferably a happy ending, as one of the things I love about the show is how very upbeat and lighthearted it is. An AU would be absolutely excellent, as I really love seeing characters put in different places, and the imagination it takes to know how it would all work out.
> 
> If you don't like AUs, some backstory stuff would be awesome. How did Sid and Galavant meet? Did Sid know Gal when he was with Madalena? What epic adventures did they have? You don't have to include Isabella in those, or you could find a way she might have met them before the show started. Maybe they just missed her on a previous adventure?
> 
> What I really love about it is how happy it is. Even when they are singing about a life expectancy of forty five, they are still so happy and upbeat. The song and dance numbers are amazing, and if you included one of those, I would love you forever.

_Oh, I have the desire_  
_Let me be a good squire,_  
_I'm bold and I'm brave,_  
_but for now, I'll just slave_  
_away…._  
_so that warriors can play_  
_At joust and quintain._  
_And I'll train and I'll train,_  
_And maybe one day,_  
_if things go my way,_  
_I'll be the best warrior of all!_  
_I'll be a true hero after--_

"GALAVANT!" Sir Hector shouted from the edge of the tilt yard. "I told you, quit singing those stupid songs. That last bit didn't even rhyme. Get over here and hold my lance."

"Oh, yes, Sir Hector, right away, Sir!" Galavant said. He dropped the oily rag he'd been using to clean Hector's extra breastplate and hurried over. Hector steadied his horse with one hand on the reins; the other held out the six-foot pole for Galavant to catch.

As squiring went, working for Hector was--not the best gig. He was imperious, demanding, inconsistent, mean, and dismissive. To make matters worse, he was utterly tone deaf. But he'd won a bunch of tournaments back in his day and it appeared he'd have a lot to teach Galavant.

Unfortunately, his day was approximately last century. 

Seriously, Hector's idea of an "I-want" song sounded more like a Gregorian chant. A chant chanted by someone with no sense of pitch. Or rhythm. Not that rhythm mattered too much for a plainsong, but--well, that wasn't the point. The point was… damn, he was old-school.

Galavant took the lance and waited while Hector fiddled with one strap on his vambrace. "Confusticate it, boy, put that stick down and help," he ordered. "Blasted thing's loose. Keeps sliding down on my wrist."

As Galavant leapt to comply, the lance slipped in his arm and poked Hector on the side of his helmet. "Dammit, boy!" he roared, swiping down to cuff Galavant with a gauntleted hand. Luckily, the blow only glanced, but still, it stung terribly.

"OW! So sorry, Sir. I--" He let the lance fall away from the horse so that he could reach up and tighten the strap. It was all he could do to pull upward to force the metal edges closer together around Hector's beefy forearm. He was still a little short for his age and the angle was terrible for any kind of leverage. As he tugged with all his might, Hector leaned dangerously in the saddle. He stood up in his stirrup to avoid tumbling to the ground, cursing Galavant all the while.

The one advantage of actual curses, Galavant thought, was that whenever anyone uttered a swear any more severe than, say, "arse" or "bitch," a mysterious atonal noise resounded from nowhere and everywhere, effectively deafening all within earshot. So that instead of words that Galavant would blush to _hear_ , let alone _say_ , all anyone could perceive was the high-pitched "bleeping" sound. 

Sir Hector had a lot to say that merited the bleeping sound, it seemed.

Whenever something like this happened to Galavant, he tried really hard to read the lips of the speaker so he could improve his bleeping vocabulary. But of course, Sir Hector's mouth was obscured by the grille of his helmet, so Galavant stood there, blinking, his face a penitent mask, until the noise stopped and Sir Hector's words could be fully appreciated again.

"By God, boy, I've never seen a sorrier excuse for a squire! Keep this up and I'll send you back home and all. Tell your mother you're only good for a tradesman's apprentice."

"Oh, please don't do that, Sir," Galavant said earnestly over a new intro. "If he found out, my father would be ever so disappointed….

_Ever since he left us flat,  
I've sworn that I'll prove myself to--_

"STOP THAT INFERNAL SINGING!" Hector bellowed.

"Sorry, Sir, but there was a pickup--"

"Just. Get me my lance," his master growled. "Then stand aside. Watch. And learn."

Galavant obeyed. He watched every move, studied it with fervent attention, and practiced. Oh, he practiced. He practiced so much over the next two years that there was a ginormous montage about it, with rousing music, leading up to the day when--

"BOY!" Sir Hector shouted again, this time on a battlefield and not the practice yard. A slightly older Galavant trotted up in boiled leather armor and a pothelm that barely protected his pretty face. He'd been given a horse for the occasion, which he was fairly sure meant he was coming up in the world.

"Sir, His Highness commands us to join the left flank," Galavant reminded him. "Count Laurence awaits his officers."

"Yes, yes, fine." Hector nudged his horse in the direction Galavant indicated. "I've been meaning to tell you that I've seen marked improvement in the last few frames of that montage," he continued as they road. "If you acquit yourself well in this battle, you might find yourself improving your station considerably."

"Do you mean--knighthood?" Galavant gasped.

Hector burst out laughing. "Heavens, no, boy, did you think it only takes one battle to become a knight?"

"Well, actually, yes, I kind of did. You see, historical kings frequently knighted thanes and squires on the battlefield--it was a commonplace reward for military service. Of course, I'm already a noble because my father was--"

"We're not talking about history, you impudent scallywag," Hector interrupted. (Sometimes, Galavant wondered if he'd ever get to complete a sentences. Or a song. Or if getting interrupted was just something that happened to squires on a regular basis.) "No, we're talking about your _career_. You're off to a promising start. And it's all thanks to me."

"Oh, yes, yes, Sir, it is."

"I've written to your father only this morning," Hector continued. "I've also decided you may enter the next available tournament--provided you survive this battle."

"Oh. Thank you?" Galavant said. It seemed the thing to say. 

They arrived at the battalion and Hector pushed through to the front just in time for a wipe screen transition to the battle. The scores of extras surged forward at each other to a really fantastic battle soundtrack. Galavant urged his horse forward, adjusting his grip on his sword so that his muscles bulged attractively. 

The armies crashed into one another. Galavant lost sight of Sir Hector as he cut and slashed at all the enemies pressing in around him. He fought with furious desperation--a battle like this was immeasurably different from the training montage. Then, just as the soundtrack hit a frenzied high point, he caught the flash of Hector's shield just in the corner of his eye. He wheeled his horse to rejoin the other.

Time slowed as Hector's horse reared. He brandished his sword at his attackers, but he was fully surrounded and they grabbed the bridle. A yeoman extra reached up to pull Hector's elbow; he teetered off the saddle and this time, standing did not stop his fall. Galavant pushed forward, arriving just as Hector hit the ground. Galavant laid about him to right and left, dimly aware that the music was now mournful where before it had been frenetic. He knew he didn't have much time. He kicked at the men in his way, punched at them with his shield. Miraculously, he was able to reach Hector and help hoist him to his feet.

"This is it, lad," Hector confirmed. "The moment you prove yourself." He then let out a tremendous war-cry and, back-to-back, they fought off about a dozen extras. 

Finally, they achieved the famed circle of slain foes crane shot. Galavant had heard of it in legend, but never seen one occur naturally before. It was totally awesome, in a slightly gruesome way.

"We did it!" he acclaimed. He pulled off his helmet to survey the battlefield: sure enough, there were little pockets of extras fighting but the main force of the battle had subsided. For no particular reason, a few pitch fires had started here and there on the grassy field. 

Galavant did a little celly there on the spot, his hair attractively slick with just enough sweat to make it glisten. While he was pumping his fist and drawing breath to sing a triumphant number, a bona fide Lone Attacker came out of nowhere and struck Hector squarely in the chest.

Hector fell like a stone. The Lone Attacker rode back out of frame, not even stopping to acknowledge his pivotal rôle in this episode of Galavant's life. Galavant himself was left to drop to his knees beside the old knight. He carefully unfastened the strap on Hector's helmet to look on his face. Manfully, he took one gauntleted hand in his gloved own and said, "You can't die, Sir!"

"Yes...I can…" Hector said between labored breaths. "I...have to. I'm…only contracted through...this scene." He laid his head down and closed his eyes. They reopened a second later. "Well, technically, through the _next_ scene, but we already filmed that bit."

Galavant had always been fascinated by the fact that deathbed conversations got so surreal. He remembered his mother telling him as a small boy that somehow, everyone seemed to know exactly when their last day would be--but usually not until shortly before it happened. And somehow, everyone knew never to tell another living soul until the time came. Mama said it was something about preserving the "integrity of the narrative." That didn't make sense to him as a boy but he came to view it as her stock excuse. 

Case in point: When he was about six, his father was really old and a baritone. But later, his father was much younger (and more handsome) and couldn't sing nearly as well. But they were both named Arnold. He'd asked why. Mama said, "Oh, that's simple dear. To preserve the integrity of the narrative, we have to retroactively adjust the continuity--that's 'ret-con,' Gary, dear, you'll hear about it from time to time. In this case, your father in what will be known as episode 1x07 will be a different man from the one in 2x06 when you'll revisit your backstory arc. Ergo, something must have happened on his last adventure to replace the man you knew with the one who returned today. Who knows? Perhaps he met some dotty tower-dweller with ridiculously long blonde hair that glows when she sings. Hmph. Pity nothing can change his self-centered, irresponsible, emotionally unavailable personality. The cad. If anything, he now thinks he's got the right to go off on _more_ ridiculous madcap adventures and now, if you can believe it, he says I'm too _old_ for him. I ask you--too old! We're the same age!" And so on. Galavant got tired of asking, since it always led to his parents arguing (when Dad was even around). He learned to simply take things as they came. It paid to be philosophical, appreciate the vagueries of life, that sort of thing.

But in any case, here he was, kneeling in the mud while Sir Hector was breathing his last. But the scene was not over: Hector clutched Galavant's hand with a powerful grip. "There's...something I need…to tell you…" he gasped.

"Yes? What?"

"My armor...my horse...my sword and shield--they are yours. You...came to my aid, and...I owe you a debt for that. Go to the King...and tell him I commend you to him. You'll be a great hero, my boy, if you just--" then Hector shuddered and choked for air. With a wrenching, rattling release of guttural noise, he expired.

"If I just what? Oh, master," Galavant intoned. He could barely believe it. A Dying Declaration complete with a mystery to solve. What luck! The music swelled.

_You were my hero,_  
_My inspiration--_  
_Well, maybe that's going too far._  
_But now that I'm here, Oh,_  
_What confirmation!_  
_Look, it's my rising star--_  
_I'm going to be a st--_

"Hey, are you Gary Galavant?" A page called to him as he ran up. 

"I am," he said. He made a mental note to drop the "Gary" most of the time. Just "Galavant" sounded much better.

"There's a message for you from the King. He heard from Sir Hector that you're the new hero on the block. His Majesty needs your help--something about a roving horde of bandits marauding throughout the countryside?"

"A roving horde of bandits marauding throughout the countryside?" Galavant repeated. "Sweet!" Whatever it was Sir Hector wanted him to improve, he'd just have to figure out on the way.

It was only later, after Hector's funeral and when he was riding away from the battle, that he reflected on how totally unfair it was that he still couldn't even make it through a single refrain. 

Maybe that would change once he'd accomplished a few more heroic deeds. Or perhaps it would take finding a squire of his own….


	2. Track Two: Real Madalena of the Seven Kingdoms

Madalena could never quite get over the fact that she was in the wrong sort of show. She hated fleas, she detested peasants, and she totally was not made for chores. They were so time-consuming! And difficult. Despite the early lesson learned when those terrible princesses dissed her, she secretly longed for wealth, status, and power. And let's face it, she also had the looks which in any other time period would have bought her the life she wanted. Really, if life had any fairness she would be some rich housewife in a quasi-realistic semi-scripted story of recurring first-world problems. But then, none of those bitches could sing. 

They had awesome clothes, though.

And there was always the possibility of a good catfight. 

Still, being the fairest maid in all the land had its advantages. Like bagging herself a really buff hero to shag day-in and day-out. And there was his squire, Sid, to do most of the actual work, when they weren't off on some adventure or entering a tournament. So it wasn't too bad where she was. 

But as time went on, Madalena began to fear that Galavant was only interested in the small-time sort of hero career, never really moving on to seize the brass ring for himself. If only there were a way to kick him into a higher gear. 

From time to time, when Gal and Sid were both off adventuring, she allowed herself a daydream:

_My life isn't bad as the thirteenth cent'ry goes--_  
_My hovel's deliciously new-fangled!_  
_The thatch upon the roof and the fresh whitewash really shows_  
_That my lot in life looks good from any angle._  
_But somewhere deep inside,_  
_I think there's much more I could be,_  
_That somewhere in this crazy world_  
_There's more out there for me…._

_I want a real silver mirror_  
_so I can see myself_  
_I want a closet of riches_  
_So I can be myself,_  
_Dresses embroidered in gold_  
_Jewelry and velvet shoes and walls that don't have mold_  
_I want a place at the table_  
_With crystal finger bowls_  
_With a pewter fork and not a wooden spoon!_  
_I want my floor to have rugs_  
_I want my bed with no bugs_  
_I just want everything that's best and [bleep] I want it soon._

_I want my hero to bring me_  
_The treasure that he finds_  
_I want to live in a castle,_  
_controlling hearts and minds!_  
_Courtiers to fall at my feet!_  
_The scent of roses there would surely smell more sweet._  
_I want to show everyone that_  
_I could be something grand,_  
_That I deserve to be a millionaire!_  
_But here I'm trapped in this rut,_  
_Don't want to need a man - but…_  
_I'd wed a king if I could to get there._

 

As her song ended, she thought of the perfect way out. Well, not _perfect_ , per se, since it still played into the stereotypical damsel-in-distress trope, and as a feminist, it really chapped her to think she'd have to depend on a man…. But, she realized reluctantly, in this day and age there just wasn't any other option open to a woman except finding another meal ticket. A King. Preferably a single King in need of a Queen. She'd have to find one either equally dashing as Galavant, or, barring that, relatively gullible. Why, she'd have him wrapped around her finger in no time at all….


	3. Track Three: The Friendship Tango

"Hey, remember the time me and my dragon, Tad Cooper, went roving all over the country in search of the most delicious pastries in the land?"

"Yeah, you keep talking about your adventures with Tad Cooper."

"My _dragon_ , Tad Cooper."

"Right. Anyway, I wasn't back yet, but yeah, you told me all about it." 

Gareth still gets frustrated with Richard, sometimes. But he's been much better since becoming the One True King (to Unite Them All). For one thing, he's slightly more confident. For another, he's got this dragon. But mostly, he's still the same insecure fat kid Gareth's known all these years. 

Not all the time, though. Queen Bobby's really a steadying influence, too, if Gareth's honest. Hard to think of little Bobby Steingass as a queen. He remembered her when they were all just little kids. Bobby was always tying up her skirts or just flat-out borrowing her brothers' clothes so she could run round the courtyard playing with Richard. It's a good thing, too, because building a new castle has been a lengthy project and Bobby's more or less in charge of it all. Unfortunately, that leaves Richard very little to do but natter on about this dragon of his.

He has to admit, it's comfortable being back in Richard's service. He'd sort of missed the guy while he was Madalena’s guy that was with her when she killed the other guy who was kind of the king (though it must be said, the sex--when they finally got to it--was pretty intense, but it didn't really make up for her constant bitching, or, you know, her descent into the Deep Dark Evil Ways (D'Dew)). She was just never satisfied. Richard may be a bit of a "nudge", as Simeon the moneylender put it, but at least he was a fair enough mate underneath his host of anxieties.

Boy, going after Madalena with Sid had been a _huge_ mistake--they had barely made it out of that castle alive. And if it hadn't been for that wildfire stuff and that mysterious girl with the silver hair, and her fire-breathing winged cats, they might not have gotten out at all.

("Did you catch her name?" he'd asked Sid afterward.

"Kalissia, I think," he'd said. "Too pale for me.")

There's one other advantage to having gone--he'd gotten to know Sid even better on that trip and now they're best mates. The only trouble is, Richard still thinks _he_ is Gareth's best mate.

In fact, before Gareth knows it, Richard's already singing a tango:

_Next to my dragon,_  
_You are_  
_My bestest buddy on earth._  
_Next to Tad Cooper,_  
_you are,_  
_a guy better far than most are worth._

_There are few_  
_Like you,_  
_C'mon Gareth, sing along with me…_  
_Who do you know,_  
_My bro,_  
_Who is better buddies than we?_

God, it's so embarrassing. It's so embarrassing that he has to sing a counterpoint.

_Since the tender age of ten_  
_I've been his bodyguard and friend_  
_But I cant take this for much longer..._  
_I should tell him how I'm feeling_  
_That though time with him's appealing_  
_My friendship with Sid has grown stronger._

_He has Bobby, he has Tad_  
_So although he might be sad,_  
_He's just got to understand that he'll be fine_  
_From a fat and lonely kid_  
_He's now king and God forbid_  
_I should spend some time with Sid--_  
_who doesn't whine._

"Wait--what's that about wine? Should we have some?" Richard asks.

"No, I like beer. And that's not what I--" But he has no time to clarify, because the refrain begins again, and now he has to sing his bit opposite Richard's second verse:

_Next to my dragon,_ | _I've known Richard all my life_  
---|---  
_I have_ | _He's got a dragon and a wife,_  
_A queen that I utterly adore_ | _But I'm alone since Madalena,_  
_But with a dragon_ | _So Sid and I go out_  
_I have_ | _And have adventures where no doubt_  
_a pet that no foeman could ignore!_ | _Most of the girls I bang are plainer…_  
_And you, Gare,_ | _But it's good to know despite_  
_We pair,_ | _My carousing every night_  
_We're a duo in true harmony,_ | _I can come home to a sort of family…_  
_Not fat or lonely,_ | _So that fat and lonely lad,_  
_Only_ | _Really grew up not half bad,_  
_The best human friend_ | _With his dragon pal named Tad,_  
_you'll ever see!_ | _And best mate: ME._  
  
 

During the song, Gareth is shocked to realize that he and Richard are dancing together. He ends the choreography on one knee. 

"Well. That was surprising," he says. 

"That was an awesome number!" Richard concludes. He engulfs Gareth in a big hug.

"My king?" says Gareth.

"Yes, Gareth, best buddy, old pal?"

"Get off my lap."


	4. Track Four: Tasty Goat

Tad Cooper suns himself on the rocky crag near the human castle. 

Tad Cooper wonders when the fuzz-faced human will bring him another goat.

"Tasty goat!" Tad Cooper sings.

Tad Cooper thinks perhaps someday the fuzz-faced human might bring him a succulent virgin.

Tad Cooper does not know if he will like the taste of virgin as much as goat.

"Tasty goat!" Tad Cooper sings.

Tad Cooper decides, perhaps, there is no need for virgin if the fuzz-faced human brings none.

Cows are good to eat, too.

Tad Cooper waits for the fuzz-faced human to come play with him. 

Tad Cooper dreams he can fly.


	5. Track Five: Sbux and the City

Isabella often wished she could be in a much different sort of story - like one of the fairy tales she often read growing up. But no, she was here in New York, flogging herself to produce a weekly column for the city's third-best paper, and feeling the intense pressure to keep up with her girlfriends.

As she did every morning on her way to work, she stopped off at her favorite Starbucks. As she was leaving, her Blackberry buzzed; she fumbled for the device in her Kate Spade leather satchel as she pushed the door open without looking. The next thing she knew, she'd plowed into someone on the sidewalk. He was completely cut, with a well-trimmed beard and mustache, and he was wearing her coffee all over his suit.

"Oh, my god, I'm so sorry!" she cried. "Uh..are you burnt? Do you need napkins? I can--let me--"

Meanwhile, the dreamboat was airing his shirt and apologizing to _her_. "Wow, that was--I'm glad that was just steamed and not--Are you okay? I'm sorry, I just wasn't looking--"

They both ceased chattering at around the same moment, when they finally looked in each other's eyes. 

"Hi," he said. "I'm Gary."

"Izzy," she replied. 

"Looks like I should buy you a new coffee," he offered. He was British! Bonus.

"Oh, no, it--looks like I should buy you a new suit."

When Gary smiled, his eyes got all crinkly. _How cute!_ Izzy thought. 

"Oh, I don't think we have to go that far," he said smoothly. 

"How far?" she asked. What was he talking about?

"I mean, dry cleaning ought to be fine."

"Oh. Your suit! I thought you meant--the ends of the earth," she finished. God, he was so delicious! Then she remembered she was supposed to meet Mr. King for a date that very night. Her enthusiasm waned a little. 

"Come inside and I'll clean up and replace your coffee."

"Oh, no, I couldn't let you. It's my fault." She followed him anyway and got back in line. He asked for the key to the men's room and told her he'd be back in a moment.

Her Blackberry buzzed again. "Oh, shit!" she said, looking at the message. The damn buzz was the reason she'd spilled in the first place. She was already running behind and if she didn't leave she'd be super-late for a meeting with her editor. She glanced nervously at the doors to the restrooms, but there was no movement. Reluctantly, she ducked out of the line and out of the shop.

~

The next morning, he was standing outside the door of Starbucks when she arrived for her espresso.

"Hi!" she exclaimed, making no effort to hide her delight. "I'm so sorry about yesterday. It's just, I was late and--"

"I thought you might stop here most days," he said confidently. "And I simply had to see you again."

"I'm glad you came back," Izzy said. "I know I ran out without--"

"Paying my dry cleaning bill," Gary said. He held up the slip.

"Oh. Right." It figured. He was probably gay. She fumbled in her purse for her wallet. "Will $20 cover it? Or I can go to an ATM."

He took the bill from her outstretched hand. "Now how about that coffee?" he offered.

"Oh, I--sure, but I have to get in to the office soon," she said. A wave of guilt passed over her as they joined the queue. Her date with Mr. King really had not gone well, and largely because she'd been low-level distracted by her handsome stranger. But if he was really gay, then hanging out with him wouldn't represent any kind of infidelity, right? She wondered if he were single. She wondered if maybe Gareth or Sid would be interested. Gary and Gareth, she realized. They'd get a laugh every time they introduced themselves.

"What?" he asked.

"Hm?"

"You, sort of laughed there. Kind of a snort, really."

"What? No, no I didn't!"

He twisted his face, emitting a high-pitched sound of disagreement. "Mm...you really did."

"No, I--"

"You did, miss," the person behind her said. 

"Oh. Oh, well, I just had a funny thought, that's all."

"What funny thought?" Gary asked.

"Oh, it's--I have a friend, his name's Gareth. And I was just sort of wondering if you two might hit it off, you know, but then it occurred to me: Gareth and Gary. That's just sort of funny."

But Gary was more confused than amused. "Gareth?" he frowned. "Sorry. I'm not gay. I'm British."

"Oh, no, I didn't mean to--I wasn't making--I mean…" she sighed. "Look, it's just my experience that it's smarter to assume gay until proven otherwise. Especially in this town."

"Ah. Well, I'm not," he assured her. "Though, I _was_ a bartender in a gay bar for a short time...."

"Good. I mean, not that you worked in a gay bar--good that you're not-- I mean, not that it would be bad, if you were. There's nothing wrong with--I just mean. I'm--glad."

And she was. Suddenly, it didn't seem so important to go in to the office right away.

If she were in another kind of story, they might have spent the day walking in the park--and if she'd been in a fairy tale romance like she always dreamed of, they'd actually sing and dance.

But this wasn't that kind of story.


	6. Track Six: The Truth "Comes Out"

Sid used to avoid going home at all costs. He knew his parents adored him--and that was kinda the problem. He couldn't stand to disappoint them by revealing he was only a squire, wasn't successful, had no name or titles. Then when he did come and visit, and they made such a fuss, he couldn't stand to disappoint them by revealing that he'd lied.

But now, he was going home with laurels aplenty. He really _did_ have his own squire now, a lively young girl named Alyce, and thanks to his latest adventure with Gareth, he had wealth to bring back as well. There was only one additional problem, which was that he really did need to clear the air. He had been thinking about it off and on all along the road from Valencia, and he had a plan. 

Sure, it might be a little awkward, but he was prepared.

Mostly.

"Sidney!" his mother called, coming out of their two-story house as he rode down the street toward them. "It _is_ my Sidney, isn't it?" she put the blade of her hand to her forehead as a visor against the bright sunlight. "It's so hard to tell. After all, it's been so long since we've seen or heard from him...for all I know he could be an old man by now."

"Oh, Mom," Sidney chuckled as he dismounted. "You're such a kidder."

"And who have we here?" Mom asked.

"This is Alyce, my new squire."

"Oy, thank God, you got rid of that other one. He was such a _schlemiel_." She rushed over to fuss at Alyce. "How did you start working for my Sidney--isn't he the best hero in all the seven kingdoms? Come in, come in, come in, your father and I were just having some bagels and a little _schmear_."

"I'll see to the horses, m'lord," Alyce said eagerly. "You go and have a good visit."

"Oh, no, dearie, you ought to come in, too, and--"

"Mom, it's okay. It's her job, remember? Come and join us when you're done," he told Alyce. His mother took his arm and pulled him inside.

"Harvey! Harvey, look who just rode into town," Mom said. "It's your son!"

"My son? Do I _have_ a son anymore?" Dad peered up at him. "So, Sidney Greenstreet Epstein, you've come home at last." He tried to maintain his stern, disapproving demeanor but couldn't manage it. "Oooh, Sidney! _So nu?_ Let me look at you, boy!" He jumped of his seat to envelop Sid in a huge bear hug. "Gladys, we've got our boy back!"

"I know, I know. And you'll never guess, Harvey: he got rid of that awful squire he had the last time he came to visit."

Dad made a V-shape with two fingers and spit between them. "Good riddance," he muttered. Then he clapped Sidney's shoulder, beaming with pride. "Good thinking, son. That squire of yours was too good-looking. You need an assistant who doesn't make you look like the second banana."

"Harvey!" Mom cried, and smacked him lightly on the arm. "Don't say such things. Our boy is just beautiful." To demonstrate, she pinched Sid's cheek and then patted it lightly. "So sit! Sit sit sit sit sit, have some bagels, are you hungry? We've got the smoked salmon cream cheese you like."

"Mom, I like plain."

"Oh! I forgot. You know, if you'd only told us you were coming I could have got some plain, but--"

"I sent a raven. Didn't you get it?"

Mom looked at Dad. "Harvey? Did we get a raven and you didn't tell me?"

"First I'm hearing about it," Dad claimed. 

"Well, it's fine, it's fine," Mom said with a dismissive handwave. "So. Tell us all about yourself. Where's Isabella? Do you have news for us, maybe? A grandchild?"

Sidney grimaced. This was the moment he'd been anticipating. He'd been so intent on remembering what he was going to say, he hadn't even noticed the klezmer intro. But now it was noticeably loud, and there was no avoiding it.

_Mom and Dad, I love you, but there's something I should say--_  
_Since the last time I was here, things had gone a bit astray…_  
_Isabella left me for my squire, Galavant,_  
_Then I got lost in the forest, and--_

He paused. The music held on a tremolo, awaiting his next line. Mom and Dad looked at him in rapt anticipation.

"Yes?" Mom asked. "What happened?"

"Oh." Sid dropped the melody. "Sorry. It's just...it's been so long that I actually got to finish a line, I hadn't even thought of a rhyme for it. Hang on…"

He quickly ran back the verse:

_Isabella left me for my squire, Galavant,_  
_Then I got lost in the forest, and supplies were pretty scant._

He bobbed his head up and down with a self-congratulatory closed-lipped grin at his skill getting out of the rhyme.

"Go on!" his parents urged.

"Oh, yeah. Ummm…  
_To Valencia I traveled,_  
_But meanwhile, a lot had changed,_  
_Because Richard had left town_  
_Since Madalena--_

He paused again. Again, the orchestra waited on a tremolo. Again, his parents hung on his words.

"This. Is so. Cool," he observed.

"Finish the verse!" his parents insisted.

"Okay, okay…" He rewound again, but this time, a strange thing happened. As he continued to sing, his remembrances of those days swam up before him in full flashback mode, until he realized that he was actually providing a voice-over.

_To Valencia I traveled,_  
_But meanwhile, a lot had changed,_  
_Because Richard had left town_  
_Since Madalena went deranged…_  
_She brought in Richard's brother,_  
_Tried to give him the king's seat,_  
_But I guess once she laid eyes on him,_  
_She couldn't take the heat._  
_She deposed him too, and killed him,_  
_Had her henchman crowned as king,_  
_But they fought like cats and dogs--_  
_Could not agree on anything._  
_I stayed to try and help them,_  
_But I knew deep in my heart_  
_There was something missing, ___  
_Calling to me to depart._

_I went back to that forest_  
_Where I found a cheery sign_  
_Seven colors in an archway_  
_Like a rainbow they aligned._  
_I went inside that tavern,_  
_Suddenly, I felt at home,_  
_And since that day, I know what_  
_I've been missing as I roam...._

The screen morphed back and with a terrific glissando of the harp, Sidney's flashback ended and he sat before his parents again for the final stanza.

_After years of misadventures,_  
_Mom and Dad, I have to say…._  
_Gal can keep his Isabella_  
_I'm better off without her…._  
_I've got a whole new life now_  
_Because. I'm. Gay._

The bombshell landed and Sid watched his parents with growing dread. He actually finished the song! That never happened. Even carousing with Gareth, he inevitably got cut off. He'd been sort of counting on that, actually. But what the hell. It was out, now. _He_ was out.

To his great relief, his parents did not immediately disown him. Mom looked over at Dad and said, "You see? I told you there was a perfectly good explanation for why we don't have grandchildren yet. Oh, _bubbala_ ," Mom said to Sid, once again grabbing his whole face in her hands, "why didn't you tell us earlier? You know, I always thought there was something a little--" she wavered one hand in a tiny tremor-- " _a bissel modne_ \--But this! It all makes sense now." 

"Yeah, it explains why he has that British accent," Dad interjected.

"What are you, _meshugge_ , Harvey? He's got the accent because he's adopted, not because he's gay! _Oy gevalt_." She dismissed Dad with an exasperated handwave. "Don't listen to your father, sweetheart. _Azay gezunt_ , that's what matters."

"I have a different accent?" Sidney asked in wonder. Funny, he'd never noticed.

But Mom patted his hand and sat again, this time pulling him into a chair. " _So, nu?_ Does this mean you've got a boyfriend? Oh! Harvey, what's the name of that very talented barber who came through last year--he's got a wonderful future, Sidney, he has a whole theory about why people get sick. Can you imagine? It's not because of imbalanced humors, he says, it's something called germs. He says they're these little creatures so small no one can even see them! Doesn't that sound ridiculous?" She cackled. "How can something be anything if it's too small to see?"

"He's a quack," Dad said, "but, he did very well while he was in town."

"You're staying, aren't you? We could go to _shuhl_ and find out if the cantor is seeing anyone…"

Sidney calmly fixed himself a bagel with a slice of Swiss cheese. His parents were talking over his head just like always. It was good to be home.

**Author's Note:**

> I enjoyed writing this, and I hope you enjoyed reading it. And yes, I have music, oh BookGirlFan, but to post it would possibly ruin the secret part of secret Santa exchange. Perhaps after the reveal I will do a podfic version.
> 
> Thanks go out to my beta-reader who shall also remain anonymous for now!


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